Indian Heart
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: What if Jenny chose to remain in Sweetwater instead of returning to the East to live with her aunt? What if she refuses to abandon her Indian upbringing? How would her choice affect Buck? Buck/Jenny
1. The Choice

**Indian Heart**

_TV series: The Young Riders_

_Takes Place: After episode "Pride and Prejudice" season 2_

_Main pairings: Buck Cross and Jenny "Eagle Feather" Tompkins_

_Genre: AU, Romance/Drama_

_Rating: M—for profanity and some sexual scenes_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and my original characters_

_Summary: What if Jenny chose to remain in Sweetwater instead of returning to the East to live with her aunt? What if she refuses to abandon her Indian upbringing? How would her choice affect Buck? Can Buck help her fit into the world she now must live in, and overcome the prejudices of the townspeople and her father? Can a woman with an Indian heart find peace and love anywhere or is she doomed to be caught forever between two worlds? Follow Jenny and Buck on a journey of self-discovery and a love that fights against all odds._

_Dedicated to: Jenn T., for introducing me to the riders and especially Buck Cross. Thanks and here's the story I promised you!_

**1**

**The Choice**

_Sweetwater_

_Nebraska Territory, 1860:_

They buried Sally Tompkins beneath the cottonwood in the cemetery. It was a broiling hot day and the sun beat down upon the mourners at the graveside like a hammer upon an anvil. Jenny Tompkins watched as they lowered the coffin into the ground, sweltering in her tight-fitting black dress. She had only agreed to wear white man's clothing out of respect for her mother, who had preferred white man's customs over that of the Lakota. Otherwise she would gladly rip off the smothering garment and wear her old buckskin beaded tunic and moccasins. She felt eyes on her back and lifted her head and glanced around.

There weren't many of the townspeople at the funeral, they had not known Sally Tompkins before she had become a Lakota captive along with seven-year-old Jenny. Jenny knew that many of them thought her mother tainted because she had become chief Running Bear's wife and borne him a child, Two Ponies. She caught the stares of pity and revulsion from a few of the townsfolk and quickly turned away. She had not wanted to come back here. She had nothing in common with these people and if the army had not insisted . . . she would still be with the Lakota—her _true_ people, who did not whisper and point like ill-mannered children behind her back, nor sneer at her for being a savage like her father. Her heart ached for her mother, beautiful Sally, who had always longed to go back to her husband, and when she had been given the opportunity had been met with rejection from all save the Pony Express riders at the way station.

Jenny lifted her head and looked across the open grave to where the marshal, Teaspoon Hunter, stood with the riders. They alone showed genuine sympathy for the Lakota-raised Jenny, whose mother had taken the bullet meant for her. Jimmy Hickok, William Cody, Lou McCloud, the Kid, Ike McSwain, and Buck Cross, all wore expressions of sorrow and regret and save for herself and her father, were the only genuine mourners at the funeral.

Jenny stood apart, feeling utterly alone, despite the presence of other people. Her heart was heavy with sorrow and guilt lay in her stomach like hot stone. She felt there must have been something she could have done to prevent Sally's death, though in her heart she knew that there had been no time to reason with Black Wolf after he had been defeated by Buck in single combat. And she never could have married the warrior who had killed April and her husband so callously, whose heart was so full of hatred towards whites that he let it consume him and murder innocents who had done no harm to the Lakota. And then he had tried to kill her and ended up killing Sally.

Tears burned her eyes and she stared at the red brown earth. She longed to scream her anguish to the sky, to rip and tear her hair and her face, grieving in the Lakota way, with honest emotion instead of this cold perfect silence. The preacher droned on and on, his words a meaningless buzz in her ears, like a pesky mosquito. He had never known Sally, never known what made her happy, made her laugh, how much she had longed to be reunited with her white husband only to discover that he regarded her as a dirty savage for bearing a redskin's child. They had been gone ten years, and Sally had believed Bill Tompkins killed in the wagon train massacre, and he had believed the same of Sally and Jenny.

Jenny barely remembered her white father, she had been seven when the Lakota took her, and Running Bear and his wife Morning Star, had treated her like their own daughter. Even Sally had been treated like a respected aunt and not a slave. Four years ago, Morning Star became ill with measles and died, and it was then that Running Bear had begun to court Sally, then known as Shining Eyes. A year later, they had married and nine months later along had come Two Ponies. Jenny adored her small brother, who was sweet tempered and full of mischief, and it had broken her heart to leave him with his father, even though she knew he would have a far better life with the Lakota than he ever would in the white world, where being a half-breed was a disgrace. She cried then, not just for her mother, but for her brother, whom she would never see again, and for herself, a white Indian whose heart was torn between her white heritage and her Indian heart.

She didn't belong here, yet she knew she could not go back to live among Running Bear's tribe, and see Black Wolf every day, without longing to kill the man who had shot down her mother. Then too, the pony soldiers from the fort would never permit a white girl to return to the Indians, and they would come and try to take her away, killing the Lakota who tried to shelter her. She could not permit that to happen, could not hurt her people more than they already had been. But oh, how she wished that she could have stayed behind with Two Ponies, safe in the arms of the Lakota warrior she had come to think of as her father.

"_You must return to the white world, where you have always belonged." _Running Bear had told her on that awful day.

_But I don't belong here,_ Jenny thought miserably. _I don't belong anywhere._ She was a stranger in a strange land, no matter that her skin was as white as any citizen of Sweetwater. She wrapped her arms about her middle and stared down at the coffin, feeling the wind of desolation howl through her, lost and alone.

Buck watched her covertly from beneath his lashes, his hat in his hand. He could see the sorrow and pain in the young girl's eyes, pain which he knew would last a lifetime. _Can't really call her a girl, Buck. She's what—seventeen? Only a year younger than you. If she were still with the Lakota, she'd have a husband by now, _Buck reminded himself. In fact, she had been promised to Black Wolf, before the warrior had disgraced himself by killing April and Sally. What Sally Tompkins had hoped would be a joyous homecoming for her and her daughter had instead turned into a nightmare. And Buck knew part of the blame rested with Bill Tompkins, whose unrelenting prejudice and bitterness towards Indians had caused his wife to leave him, this time voluntarily, and return to the Lakota because Tompkins refused to accept her half-breed son. It was a decision that had ended in tragedy for the Tompkins family, but was perhaps the best thing for Two Ponies, who would be raised with love by his Lakota people.

Buck knew well the difficulty of trying to mesh the Indian and the white worlds, as he was half-Kiowa, with a Kiowa mother and a white father. His father had been a white soldier who had taken his mother during a raid, but she had never loved him and had run away and returned to her people as soon as she could. Buck had been born among them, but even so had never felt as if he belonged. He had struggled to prove to his Kiowa kin that he was a brave warrior, enduring stoically the taunts and bullying of some of the Indian boys in his age group, who believed his white blood made him weak. He had just completed his vision quest at thirteen, gaining for himself the totem of the buck and his adult name, Running Buck, when the army had shown up at his village and demanded the return of all white captives and any with white blood. They had dragged Buck off to a missionary school, where he learned how to speak English, read, write, and the customs of his white heritage. While at the school, he had met his best friend, a mute boy named Ike McSwain. Ike was now an Express rider as well.

Buck shifted slightly, his dark hair blowing in the sudden wind that had sprung up. Proud of his Kiowa heritage, he wore his hair long, and preferred deerskin leggings to denims, unless the denims were washed until they became pliable and soft. He wore a blue chambray shirt with a leather vest over it, the vest had been made by his aunt, Cornsilk Woman, and was intricately tooled with Kiowa symbols. Today he wore knee high beaded moccasins instead of his usual soft brown boots.

Once the preacher had said his piece, the gravedigger began filling in the grave, assisted by Tompkins.

A few of the townspeople, including Teaspoon, the aging white-haired marshal and station master, and the station's housekeeper and cook, Rachel Dunne, gathered around Jenny to express their condolences. The girl stood straight backed and stoic, gulping back tears and shaking hands.

When Buck came up to her, he murmured in Lakota, "My heart grieves with you, Eagle Feather."

Jenny gulped hard, for hearing the familiar words made her want to burst into tears and howl on Buck's shoulder. She had felt a strange sort of kinship with the rider, though she had tried to deny it. Out of everyone, he alone might understand the division in her soul. "Thank you, Running Buck," she replied in the same tongue. "My heart is on the ground, my mother was my best friend."

Buck nodded in understanding. "May _Wakan Tanka_ bring you peace."

"Quit jabbering to my daughter in that heathen tongue, half-breed!" growled Tompkins, shooting a warning glare at Buck and his daughter. "Show some respect for the dead."

Jenny flinched as if slapped, then she turned and drew herself up to her full height, saying angrily, "Mother spoke Lakota as well as English, she wouldn't be offended by Buck wishing me the peace of God. She would understand that it's what's in a person's heart that matters, not whether he's red or white."

Tompkins flushed, angry at being taken to task by his daughter in front of witnesses. "Now you listen to me, girl! If you're going to live in my house, you'd better set aside all those savage ways and behave like a civilized woman."

Jenny's eyes flashed. "Then perhaps I shouldn't _be_ in your house!" she flared. "Perhaps Mother was right and I should go to live with her sister!"

"She won't tolerate no heathen Injun ways either!" snapped her father, then he turned back to shoveling dirt into his wife's grave.

Angrily, Jenny stormed out of the cemetery, her heart aching with bitterness. She was seriously considering leaving Sweetwater, rather than living with her father and enduring his prejudice. She wondered how on earth her mother had been able to stay married to him. Nothing she did was right, and Bill did nothing to help ease her way into the white world. He sneered and mocked her Lakota upbringing, not willing to listen to her when she tried to explain that they were a deeply religious people, ones who worshipped a Creator even as the whites did, but also respected the earth and animals who shared the land with them. Whatever else the Lakota might be, they were _not_ heathens, and she had seen how savage the pony soldiers had been to her village, wiping out almost all of the inhabitants, even women and children. White or red, all men were savage when their blood was up.

"Jenny! Wait!"

She turned to see Buck running towards her. She halted her angry flight, stopping on the street just before Tompkins' store.

He slid to a halt, panting, and she couldn't help but notice his well muscled chest, even beneath the confines of his shirt. He was even more muscular and seemly than Black Wolf.

"Yes?"

"I . . . just wanted to apologize for causing a quarrel between you and your father. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"Why not? Like I told him, there's nothing wrong with expressing your condolences—in _any_ language." Jenny answered stiffly. "Or are you ashamed of your Indian blood?"

Buck frowned, his eyes darkening. "You know I'm not. My heart will always be Kiowa. But I should have known better than to antagonize Tompkins that way. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Humph! The worst he can do is throw me out, and before I'd let him do that, I'll leave," she said defiantly.

Buck raised one raven eyebrow. "Where would you go? Back East?"

"Maybe." Jenny sighed. "It all depends on if he can stand having a white Indian in his home."

"You never know."

"He's never shown you any respect or treated you good, now has he?" demanded Jenny.

"No, but you're his daughter. It's different with you."

"How so? He'd as soon as never have seen my face again. Or my mother's. I heard him say to her that she'd have been better off dead than submit to a savage!"

"That was anger and grief talking. I'm sure he didn't really mean it. He seems to . . . care for her very much."

"Maybe once he did."

"Maybe a part of him still does," Buck said calmly. He didn't much care for the storekeeper, but he didn't want to be the reason that Jenny and Tompkins quarreled. "Give it time, Eagle Feather. After all, you barely know each other."

"I'm beginning to think I never will get to know him. Or care. Maybe Ma was right, and I should just move away to Philadelphia." Jenny sighed.

"That's up to you. But somehow I don't think things in Philadelphia will be much better than here. At least here you have friends and family."

"For all the good it's done me." Then she sighed. "Sorry, I shouldn't take my temper out on you, Buck. But I'm so confused! Among the Lakota, no one ever . . . looked down on me or made fun of me. Once Running Bear adopted me, no one cared if I was white. I was just Eagle Feather. Here, my own father looks at me and is ashamed."

"Maybe he's not ashamed of you so much as he is himself." Buck said wisely.

"I don't understand."

"Maybe he's ashamed that he didn't look for you hard enough. Or that he drove away your mother with his cruel words. Maybe he blames himself for her death and when he looks at you . . . you remind him of everything he's lost."

"I wish I could go back to the Lakota. I knew who I was there."

Before Buck could speak to her about understanding her conflicting emotions, Ike came up to them.

Ike was tall and rangy with blue eyes and tanned skin. He wore a kerchief over his bald head, he had lost his hair and his voice to scarlet fever as a small child. Because of this, some people thought he was a dummy, but he could communicate with Indian sign, taught to him by Buck, and also with a slate and chalk. He was actually quite smart, despite his handicap.

Ike tapped Buck on the shoulder to get his attention, then signed rapidly, "Buck, we need to get back to the station. A rider's due any time now with the mail and you're up next."

"All right. Tell Rachel I'm coming." He turned back to Jenny. "I've got to go. Take care, Eagle Feather. Let me know what you decide, the stage comes through in two days and I should be back from my run by then."

"I will. Safe ride, Buck."

He grinned at her then he sauntered away, putting his hat on his head. Ike followed.

For some reason, Jenny found herself watching the two young men as they walked away, her eyes drawn irresistibly to the tall half-Kiowa, who seemed so much wiser than his years.

Two days later, Buck went to Sweetwater for supplies, and saw the stage was in town. He wondered if Jenny was on it, and when he looked at the crowd gathered around it in the street, saw her dark dress among the brighter calicos. She stood out like a raven among peacocks, he thought, smirking.

Catching sight of him, Jenny made her way to where he leaned against the side of the livery stable. "Hello, Buck."

"Hi. Did you make up your mind?"

"Yes." Her bright green eyes met his steadily. "I'm staying here. I might not like my father all that much, but he shouldn't be alone out here. Ma never would have left him if he'd tried to understand what it was like for her and now I'm all he has left. She would want me to stay."

"You need to do what's best for you."

"I am. I might have been born back East, but here is where my heart is, out there among the plains. I could never feel comfortable in a city. I need to be where I can hear the wind and see the sky. This is my home now." She sighed. "I wish I had a horse. Mine spooked when the soldiers came and ran off and even if she came back, she'd be someone else's by now. Her name was Prairie Bird."

"If you ever want to ride, we have plenty of horses at the station." Buck offered.

"I'd like that." She looked down at her black mourning gown in distaste. "But I'm not riding in this."

"Ride in your tunic then," Buck said. "Or you could borrow a pair of britches. None of the riders would mind."

She chuckled. "Pa would have a conniption if he ever knew."

"Then we won't tell him."

"I'll think about it," she replied, but she already knew she would accept his offer. Riding a horse on the prairie was the only way she could be free, and feel truly alive again. "Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No. Not after I feed the stock."

"Then maybe I'll come by around . . . eleven o'clock?" she suggested.

"Eleven's fine. I'll make sure Rachel does the laundry," he smirked.

She blushed, for some reason her mind was imagining him without a stitch on, the way she had seen some of the young braves once with her friend Little Hands when they had gone to the river to get some water. It had been the first time she had seen Black Wolf naked since he was small . . .she had thought he was magnificent and had giggled about it all the way home. But she thought Buck might be even more magnificent still . . .Then she shook her head, sending the wanton thoughts back to sleep. She barely knew the young rider, and she knew her father would never approve of a half-breed coming to court his daughter. No, it was best if they remained friends. She desperately needed a friend.

"Buck? Will you teach me how to . . . fit in? So I don't feel so . . . out of place? My father . . . he just expects me to know things and it's been too long . . . I barely remember certain things . . ."

"It would be my pleasure, Jenny," he answered. "But if you've got questions about clothes, better talk to Rachel. I know nothing about dresses." _Or Lou,_ he added silently. Only the riders knew Lou McCloud was actually Louise, but perhaps Jenny could be trusted to keep Lou's secret. She wouldn't find it strange that Lou could ride and shoot as well as a man.

She laughed up at him, the sound reminding him of a mockingbird. "Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Cross." She gave him a passable curtsey before turning and heading into Tompkin's store. For the first time since losing her mother she felt as if she had something to look forward to.

**A/N: In the original episode, Jenny and Sally were held captive for seven years, but I changed it to ten, feeling that the longer the captivity, the more difficult it would be for Jenny and Tompkins to adjust to each other and accept each other, plus it would be more likely for Jenny to have forgotten her father in ten years, making her seven when she was captured, and more adaptable to Lakota ways. **


	2. Gentling

**2**

**Gentling**

Breakfast the next morning at the way station was the usual noisy affair, with Cody grumbling that Kid stole the biscuit he wanted and Jimmy muttering that Noah ate the last piece of sausage. "Quit your griping, there's plenty more where that came from," ordered Teaspoon as Rachel set another platter of sausage on the table. There was plenty of food to go around, as Rachel set a plentiful table. There were biscuits, scrambled eggs, sausage, ham, and flapjacks with maple syrup.

Buck ate quickly and neatly, for he was planning to go to the round pen and try out a few horses, determined to have one ready for Jenny to ride. The station had recently received four new horses, and Buck hadn't had a chance to examine them, as he had been out delivering the mail and then on the mission for the army. He looked sidelong at Jimmy. "What horses do we have that are fit to ride besides our usual mounts?"

"There's a black and white paint that's finally settled down," the other rider replied, stuffing a pancake with a sausage in the middle of it in his mouth. Then he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "Why? You planning on trading in Flicker for a new horse?" he teased.

"You wish," Buck snorted. His chestnut mare, Flicker, was one of the best horses ever to come off the range and Buck had raised her from a foal, back when he lived with the Kiowa. "No, I need a horse for Jenny."

"Jenny? As in Jenny Tompkins?" asked Lou, her eyes widening.

"She wants to go riding and needs a decent mount." Buck said, ignoring the knowing smirks and sniggers from Cody and the Kid.

Jimmy frowned, then said softly, "Buck, I don't think any of our horses are fit for a lady to ride. Not the new ones, in any case. Even that paint is still skittish."

"Jenny's not an ordinary lady," Buck informed Hickok with a smirk. "She's used to riding a spirited Indian pony. She was raised Lakota and all Lakota can ride well."

"Just as good as one of us?" Ike signed.

"Maybe," Buck replied.

"All right. Soon as you're finished eating, Buck, we'll have a look at the horses." Jimmy said agreeably.

Buck nodded and turned back to his breakfast, finishing off his flapjacks.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

Meanwhile, breakfast at the Tompkins residence was a learning experience. Bill Tompkins was accustomed to cooking for himself, and when he didn't want to, he grabbed a meal from the restaurant at the hotel. This morning, he decided to have scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee.

Jenny was awake as soon as the sun rose, and she dragged on the hated mourning clothes. She had hidden her soft doeskin tunic in the barn, she would change into it for her ride. She knew her father would throw a fit if he saw her in her Indian garb, and she wanted to avoid a quarrel if possible. What Bill didn't know wouldn't anger him.

She hurried to the kitchen and was greeted with the smells of bacon frying and coffee brewing. "Morning, Pa."

Tompkins turned from the stove and grunted, "Morning, girl. Do you know how to fry eggs?"

Jenny shook her head. "We couldn't always get eggs on the prairie, Pa. Most of the time we ate cornmeal mush with dried fruit or pemmican and corn cakes for breakfast."

Tompkins made a derogatory noise, then beckoned her over. "Watch me and learn how to cook eggs. First, you grease the skillet with some lard, then you set it on the burner, make sure it gets hot, but not too hot. Then you crack an egg into the skillet, like so . . ."

Jenny observed carefully, thinking that tomorrow it would be her turn to cook breakfast and she had better learn quick. Her father was not tolerant of mistakes. She asked Tompkins to show her how to brew the coffee, as coffee was not something the Lakota drank on a regular basis, only when they could get some in trade.

Then they ate. Jenny found the food somewhat strange, but good. She followed her father's example and added sugar and some milk to her coffee. "It's not that bitter this way," she exclaimed when she sipped it.

"Good, ain't it?" Bill said. "I always have my coffee with sugar in it. Guess those Injuns you lived with didn't use sugar either, huh?"

"No. Unless we traded for it. We used honey if we wanted to sweeten something, like tea," Jenny told him. She could recall very few times when she had tasted sugar growing up on the plains.

"You see what you miss by not having a civilized upbringing?"

Jenny flushed, growing angry at Bill's assumption. "I didn't grow up uncivilized, Pa. Ma taught me manners and so did Running Bear. But their customs aren't the same as white ones . . ."

"Because they're savages," Tompkins declared.

Jenny bit her lip hard to keep from blurting out that to the Lakota, the white settlers were savages. She took another sip of her coffee then announced, "I'm going to visit Rachel today. I have a letter to Aunt Sarah to mail, letting her know about Ma's funeral and that I won't be coming to visit, and Rachel was going to give me some dresses until I could make my own."

"Those Indians teach you how to sew at least?"

"Yes, Pa! They taught me how to sew with buckskin and quill too, and Ma taught me how to cut and follow a pattern. I can sew and mend as well as any white woman." Jenny snapped, stung. "I made the dress and moccasins I was wearing when I came here."

"Good," Tompkins grunted. "You can look over the fabrics and dress material in the stockroom, pick whatever you like, and make yourself a few things. There's pattern books in the store. You can wear them when your year of mourning is over."

"Year of mourning?" she repeated, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"It's to honor your ma. When a family member dies, you wear black or gray for a year in memory of them," her father explained.

"You mean . . . I have to wear this . . . for a year?" she asked, dismayed. She stared down at the plain black dress in disbelief. She would never understand white customs.

"Or gray. You could make yourself a gray dress. Or dye one that Miss Dunne gives you." He indicated his black armband and shirt. "That way everyone knows you've suffered a loss and doesn't try to court you or anything. It isn't proper for a woman to . . . have a man's attention until her mourning is over."

"I see," his daughter murmured, tossing her hair back behind her ear. Though she found the custom ridiculous. How was dressing like a black crow honoring Sally? Sally had always loved bright colors and pretty patterns. For some reason when Tompkins mentioned a man's attentions, a picture of Buck sprang into her mind. Now there was a man whose attentions she'd welcome! An instant later she cursed herself for a fool. Buck was the last man on earth Bill Tompkins would ever approve of, much less give his permission to see his daughter.

"Well, I'm going to get down to the store, make sure the books are in order and open up," her father declared. "When are you going over to the station?"

"Around ten thirty. I told her I'd be there around eleven." She felt slightly guilty about lying to him, but knew if she told him the true reason for going out to the station, he'd throw a fit.

"Make sure you're home before dark," Tompkins admonished. "Do you need an escort?"

"No, Pa. I'll be fine. I'll borrow a horse from the livery stable," she told him, suddenly filled with anticipation.

She could hardly wait to see Buck again . . . and get a horse of her own.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Old Ginger, the sixteen year old gelding she had borrowed from the livery stable, managed a slow amble down the road to the riders' way station. Jenny rode astride, she was wearing her old doeskin tunic and moccasins, having changed out of the detested mourning gown in the barn before mounting the placid horse. She rode Indian style, with only a blanket and a cinch strap over the horse's back. She found the saddle too uncomfortable on her bare thighs and much preferred to feel her mount beneath her.

The chestnut gelding was even-tempered and calm, Jenny would have been insulted at the choice the livery owner had made for her if she hadn't seen for herself that he was the only horse available, and it wasn't a slight on her riding skills. Upon being adopted by the Lakota, one of the first things her Lakota father Running Bear had done was to teach her how to ride. She had taken to riding like a duck to water, and since then rode almost every day. Riding old Ginger was like riding a rocking horse, a three summer old child could have ridden him without fear of falling.

She nudged the chestnut, whom she called Molasses because he was so slow, into a slightly faster walk, and mused on how beautiful the day was and how glad she was to be out here, instead of cooped inside four walls. She knew she would have to get used to living the way the whites did, but right then she felt as if she would never really adjust. Too much time within four walls made her feel closed in and smothered.

But now with the wind blowing in her face, she felt much better. She found herself remembering her mother, and wondered if things might have been different if she had lived, if Sally might have been content to stay with the Lakota? _You know her heart always longed for the white world and she only went back to the Lakota because of Two Ponies,_ Jenny thought sadly. _Running Bear said it best—she belonged with her people. I wonder if she had gone back to Pa, would he have accepted her back? Would things be different now with him and with me? _

The sad thing was she didn't know the answers to her questions. _I miss you, Mama._ Sudden tears stung her eyes and she allowed them to slide slowly down her face. She tilted her face to the sun, recalling how the minister had said Sally was at peace now. How could he know that? Jenny preferred to think that part of her mother's spirit was in the wind and the sky, swirling over the plains she had grown to love, even as she had grown to love her Indian husband. That way, Jenny could still feel her, every time the wind caressed her face.

She reached the way station at last, riding past the white picket fence surrounding the front yard of the house, and around the back, where the barn, bunkhouse, and the corrals were. As she was tying up Molasses, she saw a tall handsome man with shoulder-length brown hair riding a bucking chestnut Appaloosa filly.

"Ride her, Jimmy!" cheered Noah, leaning on the top of the split rail fence, watching as Hickok tried to bend the spirited filly to his will.

Noah, Lou, Buck, and Cody were all watching as the Appaloosa sunfished and crow hopped all over the corral, her head down and her heels skyward almost every second. Ike and Kid were gone on deliveries this morning, one heading to Laramie, the other to Bear Creek.

Jimmy was an excellent rider, somehow managing to keep on the angry horse's back despite all of her leaping and snorting. Even so, he was jarred and bruised in his fight to break the lively filly.

"Looks like you got her licked, Jimmy!" Cody called, grinning.

"She seems to be getting tired," Lou agreed, watching with avid eyes.

"No, he doesn't," Jenny disagreed, coming up to the fence. "She won't give up."

"Hello, Jenny," Buck said, smiling at her. "What do you think? Do you like her?"

Jenny gazed at the filly, seeing the fear in the horse's eyes as she raced about the corral, her coat wet with sweat. Her heart went out to the poor frightened creature, who longed to be set free to run wild. "She is beautiful, like the wind in the tall grass," she told him softly. But then her eyes narrowed. "She will not be broken this way. Or any way. The way to make friends with a horse isn't by force."

"Shoot, Jenny! Jimmy doesn't want to make friends with her, he just wants her to settle down some so you can ride her," Cody informed her.

Jenny frowned. "And he believes he can do this by staying on her back?"

"It's one way," Noah said. He was a recent recruit to the Express riders, a young free black man who decided to stay on at Sweetwater rather than try to go north to Canada or back to Africa like so many former slaves did. He was one of the few black cowboys in the territory.

"It's not the Lakota way." Jenny repeated and this time she glared at Buck. "Surely you don't agree with them?"

"I . . . umm . . ." Buck scrambled for something to say but before he could get his tongue untied, Jimmy growled at Jenny.

"Girl, if you think you can do it better than me, why don't you take a turn on her back?"

But his momentary lapse of concentration cost him dearly. The filly suddenly changed tactics and instead of bucking, ran and stopped dead. Jimmy was unprepared to go from a gallop to a dead stop and flew off her back, landing hard against the fence.

"Jimmy!" Lou cried." Are you hurt?"

Jimmy gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. "I'm fine, Lou. I've had worse." He turned and glared at the horse, who stood in the middle of the pen and seemed to laugh at him. "Damn ornery horse! You're as contrary as a Chinook wind in the middle of winter."

The Appaloosa snorted, tossing her finely boned head.

"What are you looking at?" Jimmy huffed, limping slightly as he walked over to the fence and climbed out. He scowled at Jenny and said, "Be my guest, lady, if you think you can break this contrary filly. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. My adopted father, Running Bear, was a master horse tamer and he taught me much. Including how to gentle a horse. I will show you."

"Wait, Jenny . . ." Buck protested, not wanting her to get hurt. Wild horses were often unpredictable.

But Jenny was done with waiting. She would show these sniggering young men how to tame a horse in fifteen minutes. She swung her leg over the top rail and shimmied down into the pen.

Then she reached into a pocket and produced a sugar lump, which she had snitched from the sugar bowl this morning at breakfast. She carefully walked towards the horse and then deliberately turned her back on the Appaloosa and stood very still, holding the sugar on her palm.

The other riders watched with bated breath as the Appaloosa circled her warily. Around and around the horse went, trying to determine if she was a threat. Finally after five minutes, the filly trotted up and ate the sugar from her hand.

At the moment the horse's head dipped down to lip the treat from Jenny's fingers, she looked up and breathed softly into the Appaloosa's nostrils, greeting the filly as if she was another horse. "There is nothing to fear," she murmured in Lakota. "I am your sister, fiery one. Will you be my friend?"

The filly tossed her head, then danced out of range.

This time, Jenny turned and jogged away from the horse, turning in a large circle, occasionally waving an arm at her, teaching the filly to not startle at any sudden movements.

Gradually, the filly lost her fear and began to follow Jenny at a distance. Jenny halted and called in Lakota, "Horse, follow closely."

The Appaloosa started to approach her and Jenny trotted away, making the horse follow her.

Cody whistled softly in appreciation. "Well, I'll be a pink spotted mule! That's the most amazing thing I ever saw. Jimmy, look at how the horse is following her."

"How's she doing that, Buck? Some kind of Indian magic trick?" asked Jimmy.

"It's an old Indian technique called gentling," Buck explained. "First you have to get the horse to trust you and then you slowly work with him until he accepts a saddle, bridle, and just about anything else you want to do."

Jenny continued circling, and the curious equine followed, until Jenny halted in the middle of the corral and stood still. The girl kept her shoulders and head down, reassuring the horse in a manner she could understand that Jenny was not a predator.

Foot by foot, the filly approached, exhaling softly, watching the girl warily.

When Jenny remained motionless, the filly dared to put her head on Jenny's shoulder.

"That's plain amazing, that is!" exclaimed Noah.

Jimmy eyed Jenny speculatively. "If that isn't some kind of magic, I don't know what is."

Jenny spoke. "No magic, Jimmy. Just lots of patience."

"Patience is something Jimmy is in short supply of," Lou teased.

"Look who's talking, Lou!" Jimmy shot back, rather embarrassed.

Jenny gently reached up and stroked the Appaloosa's muzzle. The filly tossed her head, but only a token resistance. Jenny's fingers were light on her satin coat, and she did not attempt to mount or otherwise force the filly to accept her on her back. "We shall be good friends, eh, my contrary one?" she whispered, still speaking Lakota.

Finally, Jenny stepped close, and removed the heavy saddle, leaving only the thin blanket upon the Appaloosa's back. The filly was the color of a bonfire, all save for the white blanket splashed over her hindquarters sprinkled liberally with fiery rosettes. She also had a white stripe going up her face, giving her a curious look, and one white stocking on her near fore.

The boys watching waited impatiently for the girl to get on the filly's back, but Jenny merely turned and picked up the reins, leading the Appaloosa to the side of the corral and tying her.

"Thought you were gonna ride her," Cody stated, sounding disappointed.

"Not yet. She's not ready," Jenny said. "May I come back tomorrow and work with her?"

"Long as we can watch," Jimmy agreed.

Jenny smiled. "Of course. That is how Running Bear showed me how to tame a horse, without need of spurs of a whip. He can make the most stubborn and frightened horse behave."

"The Lakota are fine horse tamers," Buck praised. "Now, how about that ride I promised you?"

"I suppose I'll have to take Molasses," Jenny said, nodding to the chestnut gelding.

Noah turned and saw the horse in question. "Ah, Jenny, that old nag will take ten minutes to go a mile. You can borrow my horse, Bandit. He's s bit spirited, but nothing you can't handle."

"Thank you . . . err, I didn't catch your name."

"Noah. Noah Dixon, ma'am." Noah held out his hand to shake. "I'm sorry about your mother. I would have come to the funeral but I was on a run."

Jenny shook his hand and said, "That's quite all right, Noah. The mail has priority."

She followed Buck and Noah to the barn, and Noah had Bandit tacked up in no time, then he handed her the reins. "Have fun!"

Bandit was a dark brown horse, nearly black, and feeling his oats this morning. Jenny sprang into the saddle without assistance, and began to walk the eager horse about the yard.

Buck soon joined her on Flicker, then they trotted out of the station and down the road a piece before leaving it to canter across the prairie.

For long moments they rode in silence, simply enjoying the feel of the horse beneath them and the wind tugging at their hair. Buck noticed that Jenny wore her hair today like a Lakota girl, in braids wrapped with ribbon. He wondered idly what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair, would it feel like cornsilk, the way it looked? She rode gracefully, at one with her mount, not like potatoes in a sack, the way most whites did. She fascinated and intrigued him and he found himself wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.

_Stop it!_ He chided himself. She barely knew him, and he feared that a part of her blamed him for bringing the soldiers to her village, even though he hadn't known the soldiers would harm her people. It was because of him that she had been uprooted from the only home she had ever known, and "returned" to a father she couldn't remember, who had nothing but contempt for the red man. He was lucky she was even willing to speak with him after all that had happened.

He slowed Flicker when they had crested a small rise, and the well-trained chestnut halted neatly at a slight pressure from his thighs. All about them was the thick green gold grass, colorful wild flowers, and a few cottonwoods. The sky before them was a vast panorama of blue—indigo shading to cornflower and a misty light blue with a few scattered clouds.

He cast a look at his companion and saw that like him, she too was appreciating the beauty of the Creator. The sun kissed the tip of her nose and for a long moment she was still, alabaster and gold silhouetted against the sky. Then she turned and smiled at him, and he felt his heart race.

"It's beautiful here. How did you find this spot, Buck?"

"By accident. I was riding this route on a run and I just . . . came upon it. The spirits called me."

"I can see why. It's so peaceful here. Just the trees, earth, and sky."

He shifted in the saddle as his mare began to graze. "You miss your home, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you ever miss being with the Kiowa? Why did you choose to live in Sweetwater?" she asked, then she blushed, realizing it was a personal question.

But he chose to answer, saying quietly, "I could have chosen to stay with my brother, Red Bear, he was war chief of his band. But then I would have had to make war on my Pony Express friends, and they were like brothers to me. I also knew that no matter how hard we fought, how many whites we killed, it would never be enough. The time of the Indian is fading, Jenny, and the white man comes sweeping across the plains like a fire in dry grass. Nothing can stop it, and the best thing to do with a wildfire is to get out of its path. Someday soon this land will be covered with railroads and telegraphs and there will be towns where there used to be buffalo. Progress, they call it."

"And you're not angry that the whites are taking away the land of your ancestors? Destroying the buffalo?" Jenny asked.

"I don't like it, but what can I do? A man who tries to stand against a twister gets blown away." Buck said practically.

Jenny sighed. "I know you're right. It's just . . . it seems so unfair. We should all be able to share the land, God knows there's enough of it."

"We should. But our white brothers are like spoiled children, greedy and selfish, and most of them have no respect for Mother Earth. And no wish to learn either." He spread his hands. "I've tried to teach the other riders the way of the Indian, and I think I've mostly succeeded. It's a small victory, but a good one. You don't ever need to feel ashamed when you're among the riders, Jenny. Unlike the good folk of Sweetwater, we don't judge you by your beliefs or how you were raised."

"I'm glad. I need somewhere that I can feel comfortable. This morning, Pa and I nearly got into another quarrel. I don't think he'll ever understand how living with the Lakota changed me."

"Not unless he's willing to listen. Tompkins is stubborn, he clings to his hate, I think he's afraid of letting it go, because then he'd see how much time he wasted hating the people who saved his daughter from starvation all those years." He reached over and closed his hand about hers. "But you shouldn't give up. You should become like the river and wear away at the stubborn rock. Over time, the river wins."

She chuckled. "You're right. And I'm just as stubborn as he is, maybe more."

"What did he say about coming out here today?"

"I told him I needed to see Rachel about some clothes and mail a letter to my aunt. That was true, but he doesn't know I'm out here riding with you. Or dressed like this." She gestured at her dress and moccasins.

"If he saw us now, he'd probably get out his rifle," Buck said wryly.

"And start screaming about how you had dishonored me." Jenny said. "He doesn't realize that the greater dishonor is not accepting me for what I am."

"Give him time, Jenny. Maybe he'll change." Buck said sympathetically. "Meantime, this day's too fine to waste sitting here. Race you back to the station!"

"You're on, slowpoke!" Jenny challenged, then she wheeled Bandit about and sent him off with a loud war whoop that would have done a Lakota war chief proud.

Buck whirled Flicker, thinking that Jenny was as tricky as a fox, getting the jump on him that way. Grinning, he sent his mare after Bandit, riding hard to catch up.

The two skimmed across the ground like swallows in flight, their horses hooves like thunder over the earth. Gradually Flicker bridged the gap, but Jenny and Bandit had a solid lead, and the way station came up before Buck could catch them.

"I won! I won!" Jenny cried, laughing as she pulled up Bandit before the corral.

"Only 'cause you cheated." Buck scolded playfully.

"I did not!"

"You didn't wait until I was ready."

"Running Bear taught me that surprise is everything, whether in a race, a hunt, or a fight." Her green eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Next time you won't get so lucky, Eagle Feather," Buck conceded, dismounting. As he led Flicker over to the water trough, he asked, "How did you come by the name Eagle Feather? That's usually a name for a young warrior."

Jenny swung her leg over Bandit and slid to the ground, also leading him to the trough. "When I was little, I used to follow the boys, and try and do everything they did. I never liked sitting still and sewing, and when I made my first kill with my small bow, Running Bear said I had the heart of a warrior, and he started calling me Eagle Feather."

Buck ran his gaze up and down her and said, "It suits you."

"Thanks," Jenny smiled, then began to cool out bandit. "Do you think Rachel will mind if I stay for lunch?"

"Not at all. Rachel loves feeding people. I think one of her goals in life is to make sure no one ever leaves the table hungry." Buck said, smirking.

Jenny quickly patted her hair down, wishing she had thought to bring a comb, then she followed Buck up the porch stairs and into the station. She was starving and hoped whatever Rachel had cooked was hot and tasty.

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers who have read this story so far! Next will come some discussions with Rachel and more with Jenny and Buck as Jenny tames her wild Appalossa.**


	3. A Proper Young Lady

**3**

**A Proper Young Lady**

Rachel had made fried chicken, biscuits with freshly churned butter, mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and carrots with butter and ground pepper. For dessert there was a dried apple pie. "Whatever's left over you boys can eat for supper," she announced. "Would you like to take some home for your pa, Jenny?"

"Thank you, ma'am. I think Pa would appreciate it," Jenny said, her respect for the station mistress increasing tenfold. She knew her father could be difficult to deal with, he was stubborn, proud, and changed his mind once every ten years. She knew he'd had his differences with the Express riders and so Rachel's unlooked for generosity was even more surprising.

The food was excellent, Jenny was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. The chicken was crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside, it tasted even better than chicken roasted on a spit over the fire with herbs rubbed on it, which was how her Lakota cousin Snowbird cooked it. The mashed potatoes were creamy and delicious and the biscuits melted in your mouth. By the time she had set down her fork, she was stuffed. "Rachel, you cook better than anyone this side of the Mississippi. If you have time, could you show me how?" she asked politely. "I only know how to cook Lakota dishes and my pa would never let me hunt for deer or even rabbit or prairie pheasant, he says it's not proper for young ladies to hunt." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Though maybe he would change his mind once he tasted my pheasant stuffed with cornbread, sage, nuts, and dried berries."

"I could hunt for you, Jenny," Buck offered in his quiet way. Among his people, it was a man's duty to hunt for his family or anyone in the tribe who could not hunt themselves. "Pheasants aren't hard to find around here."

"That's sweet of you to offer, Buck. I'll let you know when I'm planning on making it, and then you can join us for dinner."

"I could _what_?" Buck gaped at her. "Jenny, I doubt if your pa would take too well to that."

Jenny shrugged. "He'll have to learn to get used to things being different now. I won't allow him to snub you. You're my friend, Buck, and I'll allow Pa to dictate some things to me, but one thing I do insist on is being able to pick my friends. I'm nearly a grown woman, I have the right to decide." She stated firmly, her little chin jutting out stubbornly.

Cody chuckled admiringly. "You're a little firebrand, aren't you?"

"Buck, I'd not be around when she tells her daddy she's invited you for supper," Kid said, grinning. He was from Virginia, and was a handsome dark-haired Southern boy with a pleasant drawl, a killer smile, a protective streak the size of California when it came to women. He was also very much in love with Lou. "You don't want to be in the line of fire."

"I sure don't." Buck answered, he didn't trust Bill Tompkins not to draw on him if the storekeeper got riled. And it was well known that Indians—half or full blooded, riled him up plenty.

"I'll make sure I lock up pa's shotgun," Jenny said. "He's not really so bad once he simmers down. It just takes him a long time to do so."

"Your father is one of the stubbornest men I've ever known," Rachel said. "But he did have a right to be bitter and resentful to the Lakota for stealing away his family. He mourned you as dead these past ten years. But now with you home again, maybe he'll start to see that what's important is your happiness, Jenny, and he'll start to see Buck as a person, not as a savage. Right now he's fighting to hang on to his hate, because he's scared of feeling anything else."

"But why, Rachel?" asked Jenny.

"Hatin's easy, girl. Accepting, now that's hard. Because then you have to admit you were wrong and it's a hard thing for a proud man to admit when he's wrong and learn to think in a different way."

"I suppose you're right. I never really thought about it like that before."

"Well, you're young yet. When you get to be my age, you'll have seen a lot more of the world and the people in it," Rachel told her.

"Why, Rachel, you make yourself sound like somebody's granny," Cody exclaimed. "You're not _that_ old!"

"I never said I was _old_, Cody," Rachel chuckled. "Just that I'd been around a spell and seen a few things." She glanced again at Jenny. "I'd be happy to share my recipes with you, Jenny. I always wanted a little sister to cook with."

"I'll be a good student," Jenny promised. Then she said, "Would you also help me choose dress patterns and styles?"

"Certainly. I may even have a few you can have for now," Rachel said agreeably.

"I'm outta here," Jimmy said, rising. "Girl talk and I don't mix."

The rest of the riders quickly followed him out.

"Boys! Mention dresses and they run away like their pants were on fire!" Rachel laughed. "Good thing we didn't mention the word 'corset', they'd probably have fainted."

Jenny frowned. "What's a corset?"

"Come on over to my house and I'll show you." Rachel said, then began to wash the dishes.

Jenny helped, washing dishes was an old familiar chore. As she scrubbed the plates, while Rachel dried, she thought about how kind Rachel was, making her feel welcome and not mocking her for her lack of white customs. Rachel reminded her of the Lakota women Snowbird, Brave in the Dark, and Summer Breeze. They had made a scared seven year old feel welcome among them, teaching her their language and customs without ridicule. Besides Morning Star, they had become her friends. She sensed that Rachel would also be a good friend . . . her first white woman friend.

Once the dishes were done, Jenny followed Rachel out of the bunkhouse, where they all ate, and to the small white-picket fence house just across the way. Rachel explained that the riders and Teaspoon, who had been station master before he'd been elected marshal of Sweetwater, had all agreed that she needed the house more than they did. So the house was Rachel's domain, and she had decorated it tastefully.

Jenny admired the fine furnishings and mantel clock, the clever oil lamps with pretty shades on them, and the homemade rug in front of the fire. After letting the girl have a quick look around, Rachel led her upstairs to the bedroom, where she showed her several items in a proper young woman's wardrobe, including petticoats, a chemise, and a corset, plus stockings as well as dresses.

Jenny's eyes widened, then she exclaimed, "Rachel, why do all you white women have so many layers? What's the purpose of it all?" She recalled her own black crepe dress, frowning. She had worn one petticoat on under it, but no corset because Sally had been wearing hers when she'd been taken. "I feel like a stuffed pheasant every time I wear white clothing. It's not . . . practical."

"You're right there, honey," agreed the station mistress. "But then again, it's not meant to be. Petticoats and corsets are fashionable, and supposed to give a woman a more shapely figure. Just be glad you weren't born in the time of hoop skirts," she told the girl, then went on to explain what they were, a sort of cage made to make a girl's skirt flare out more.

Jenny was horrified. "You put yourself in a cage? But how did you sit or do work wearing that thing?"

"You sat down very carefully, otherwise the hoop would come up and hit you in the face," remarked Rachel. "I had that happen to me more than once when I dressed for Sunday meeting. For another, a lady wasn't expected to work like you think. A lady would never soil her hands cooking and cleaning game, or gathering wood, or toting water. She had servants to do that for her. A lady's job was to be a good hostess, and oversee the house, mind her children, and be a supportive and genteel wife to her husband."

Jenny made a face. "Those ladies sound like painted dolls, too spoiled to do honest work."

"Oh, they did work, running those plantations down South was a lot of work, but like I said, it was a different sort." Rachel began sorting through some dresses. "But all that will change if the war comes. The belles of the ball will have to take off their hoop skirts and put on homespun cotton and there will be no more grand parties to host. Here in the West, we're not quite as fancy as those back East. We can't afford to be, when you have to go out and weed the garden or draw water from the well, feed the chickens and milk the cow. Us pioneer women learned how to make do, though we still wear petticoats under our skirts."

"And you sweat to death in the heat," Jenny objected.

"Yes, sometimes. But let me tell you a secret," Rachel said, then bent and whispered in her ear, "If the heat gets too bad, I just wear a chemise under my dress and to hell with the petticoats and corset all together." She picked up her everyday chemise, a soft cotton garment like a sleeveless tunic. "Plus, I wear a modified corset, one that doesn't come down too far on my chest, makes it easier to breathe." She picked up the whalebone stays.

"I will never wear one of those things," Jenny declared. "It makes it impossible to breathe, my ma said. She told me once that the Lakota tunics are much more practical in this climate and at least you won't faint from lack of air and heat stroke."

"Your ma was right. What we women do for the sake of fashion and to catch the eye of a man," Rachel shook her head. She held up a pretty blue dress in a simple style, with three-quarter sleeves and darts at the bodice. "Here. This one will fit you nicely, and with the tucks on the bodice, you won't even need a corset."

Jenny stroked the soft fabric. "Thank you, Rachel. I never expected to find a white woman who was so kind to me. Most of the women in town won't even speak with me, and when they look at me, they sneer as if I was some kind of wild creature. Pa doesn't see it, but I do. They think because I grew up Lakota, I'm beneath them."

Rachel sighed. "Some people don't have the sense God gave a goose, Jenny. God says, love ye one another, and judge not, lest ye be judged. But it's the plain truth people don't always practice what they preach. It's easier to hate the Indians than it is to try and understand them."

"But they're people, like you and I," Jenny said. "They might have different ways, but they laugh, love, and cry just like white folks."

"You know that, because you've learned to see them in a different way. But most folks around here only see the Indian as a savage, because they've been taught that or seen the victims of a raid on a homestead or wagon train. When you've seen only bad, it's hard to see the good."

"The pony soldiers hurt the Lakota just as much as the Lakota hurt white settlers!" Jenny objected. "They killed women and children looking for my mother and me. Snowbird and Little Creek never did them any harm," she said, recalling her friend and her little son. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Rachel's heart went out to the grieving girl and she hugged her. "There have been wrongs done on both sides, just like the North and South are doing to each other over states rights and slavery and the Union. Hate turns us all savage some times. Look at that Black Wolf and your mama."

"I know. But he was one man. I might hate him, but I don't hate the Lakota, or Running Bear or my little brother. They weren't the ones who shot her." Jenny said, hugging Rachel back.

"That's cause you got a big heart, girl, and can see clearly. Most folks only see what's right in front of them." Rachel said, stroking Jenny's hair. "Now, how about you choose a few of these and I can come by tomorrow and help you pick out patterns for some new ones?"

"Yes," Jenny accepted the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. She stroked her deerskin tunic. "I made this, you know. It took me three months."

"It's beautiful," Rachel said, fingering the intricate colored quills and beads. "Someday, maybe people will appreciate your beautiful dress. But for now, it'll be easier for you to fit in if you at least dress like a white woman."

"And I shall bring less shame upon my father," Jenny acknowledged. "He has told me about the time of mourning. He has said that I must wear black or gray for a year to honor my mother."

"That's an old custom. I have a few dresses we can dye for you to wear everyday."

"But not to ride. Then I'll wear my Indian clothes," Jenny said firmly.

"You can wear whatever you want to ride over here, Jenny. I'm sure Buck won't mind!" Rachel teased gently. She had not missed the glances Buck had thrown at the girl over lunch.

Jenny blushed. "Were we among the Lakota, I would throw a blanket over him so we could talk privately. But only for a few moments. Any more and it would shame my reputation."

"Is that how you court among the Lakota? By sharing a blanket?"

"Yes. But first the brave must ask permission from a girl's father or brother, if she has no father. Or the closest male relation. It's considered bad manners not to request permission first."

"Then what happens?" asked Rachel curiously. She had never heard of anything like this, since most whites knew very little about Indians, except that they hunted buffalo, lived in tipis, wore buckskins, and killed white settlers with tomahawks and bows and arrows. They were also known for their skill at tracking and riding, but other than that very little was known about their daily life. This was a fascinating opportunity.

"Well, if her father or brothers approve, they give him permission to court her. Now a Lakota woman is never forced into marriage, it is always her choice to accept or refuse a man. Her family might encourage her to accept a brave's suit, but if she has misgivings or totally cannot stand the man, she can refuse. Only on rare occasions, such as a vision from a chief or shaman, is an marriage arranged, and usually it is for the good of the tribe, to end a feud between tribes or families."

"Then I guess what they say about the Lakota selling their women is wrong."

Jenny cocked her head, puzzled. "Lakota do not sell their women. Sometimes we do keep slaves, members of an enemy tribe taken in a raid or white captives, but they are not slaves for life. They can work to win their freedom, or marry into the tribe and that gains them full status."

"I'm talking about how a man will pay many horses to gain a bride."

"You don't understand. To a Lakota, the horse is sacred, a gift from the Creator. To have many horses is to be wealthy in the eyes of all, for it shows that you are brave, resourceful, and that the Creator favors you. When a man seeks a wife, he must show how much he thinks of her. The more horses a man pays for a bride, the greater worth she has in his eyes. If a man offers more than five horses for a woman, he values her highly, it is to show honor for the woman. The more he offers for her, the greater he honors and loves her, when they marry she shall be cherished. Ma told me that in your world, a woman brings a man a dowry, to show her own worth. It's nearly the same thing, only the gift is for the bride's family."

"That's extraordinary! Please, tell me more about courtship among the Lakota." Rachel urged. "I guess all the stories lied about Indian women being . . . ah . . . free with their favors?"

Jenny nodded. "A Lakota girl is chaste till she takes a husband. It is considered a great shame to take a man to bed until then. When we are twelve and thirteen, a Lakota girl is no longer permitted to be alone with a young man, she must be chaperoned, even when courting. If a woman gives her permission to be courted, sometimes a brave will sit outside her tipi and play her love songs upon a bone flute. If she likes him, she could set out a bowl of food to show her approval, and also allow her suitor to see that she can cook for him. Then she may speak with him, but she must keep her lower half inside the tipi and only stick out her head and shoulders. Usually her mother or sisters are inside the tipi, watching to make sure that the young man doesn't . . . take liberties with her."

"What happens if a man does?"

"Then he has dishonored himself and the girl. Her father and brothers would probably drive him away, for a decent man has control over himself and should be able to wait until they are married. To . . . force a maiden is . . .a great crime, punishable by banishment or even death should the girl's family desire it."

"It sounds like most Indian boys are taught to respect women. Would that were so with most white men." Rachel said with approval. "Once a woman marries, she belongs to her husband. Any money or land that she brings as her dowry becomes her husband's."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That's just how it is."

"I would never let a man take what belongs to me." Jenny said firmly.

"Well then, best you marry a man who understands where you've come from," Rachel advised.

"If there is such a one," said the girl. _Buck would understand,_ her heart whispered. _He knows the customs I grew up with, as well as the white ways. You could trust him. _She felt a rush of longing flow through her when she thought of him. He was as handsome as Black Wolf and far more honorable. When he looked at her she felt fire flicker through her, and she had not felt such a thing even with Black Wolf. It scared her, because one man had already betrayed her, allowed his hatred to rule him. Who was to say that Buck would not hate her eventually for being white also? No, it was better they remain friends. At least that way she could invite him for dinner without worrying about hiding her father's shotgun. As much as she longed to, she could not risk her heart. Not just yet.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Out by the barn, Buck leaned against a hay bale, watching as the Kid groomed Katy, his chestnut and white paint mare. It was obvious that Katy enjoyed the fuss Kid made over her, she casually chewed on some alfalfa while her rider lovingly brushed and untangled her mane and tail, leaving her coat shiny and clean. Nearby, Ike carefully picked his bay gelding Tucker's hooves clean. All of the riders took excellent care of their mounts, they were close to them, like partners, since horse and rider travelled hundreds of miles together to deliver the mail.

He quickly glanced about to see where Lou, Jimmy, and Cody had got to, and saw they were over by the corral watching the young Appaloosa frisk about with some of the other new horses. Seeing they were occupied, Buck stepped over beside Katy and asked softly, "Hey, Kid. I was just wondering . . . once you found out Lou was really a girl . . . how could you tell if she liked you?"

Kid, who had never told anyone his real name, lifted his head and gave his friend a smirk. "Why are you asking me that, Buck?"

Buck shrugged, trying to sound casual. "No reason, I'm just curious."

"No reason except the pretty girl inside the house," Ike signed, grinning mischievously.

"You be quiet," Buck ordered, glaring. Then he turned back to Kid. "Well, am I going to get an answer here? Or should I ask Jimmy?"

Kid's eyebrows rose. "Jimmy? I know more about romance than Jimmy!" Kid said indignantly. "All he knows about women could fit in his pocket. He knows more about using those six shooters than he does girls."

"You tell him, Kid!" Ike signed, mirth written all over his face.

Buck ignored his best friend, and waited to see what advice Kid had to offer.

Kid leaned against Katy's broad shoulder and cleared his throat. "Buck, for the longest time I wasn't sure if Lou liked me at all, because she was pretending to be a boy. But every time we went into town, and some pretty gal smiled at me, I noticed Lou would get real quiet and refuse to talk to me. Finally one day I got tired of her giving me the silent treatment, and I asked her what was bothering her."

"What'd she say?"

"First she tried to act like I was crazy. Said if she didn't want to talk she had a right to not open her mouth. But I knew that wasn't it. I could tell something was eating her. So I kept asking, till she got sick of me and said she didn't like the way those Sweetwater girls kept staring at me . . . like they wanted to see me without clothes on. I was shocked for a minute, because no Virginia girl would have come right out and said it like that . . . but you know Lou. She always speaks her mind. It came to me that she was jealous . . . and once I realized that I asked her if she would like to go for a walk down by the creek."

"That's it? Make her jealous?"

"Well, no. That's just so you can tell if she really likes you as more than just a friend. And I wasn't making eyes at any of those girls in town either. They were looking at me. Lou told me afterwards that she would have tried to kiss me herself, if those girls hadn't been eyeing me up like a prime steak." Kid chuckled. "So then we started walking out with each other and the more I was with her, the more I found to like and admire about her. She's unlike any woman I ever knew and that's why I love her, I reckon. Your Jenny's a lot like Lou."

"She's not my Jenny, Kid." Buck objected. "She's not my anything."

"But you'd like her to be," Kid stated.

Buck sighed. "It's complicated."

"Because you're half-Kiowa and she's Tompkins' daughter, right?"

"That's part of it. I don't want to cause problems between her and her father. But at the same time I can't seem to stay away from her. She asked me to help her learn the white man's ways. I said I would. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Maybe you were thinking it was a good way to get to know her," Ike offered.

"And then what? Her old man will never let his daughter walk out with a half-breed," Buck stated harshly.

"Not now, but what if he changed his mind?" Kit asked.

Buck snorted. "That'll be the day."

"You never know. The Lord works in mysterious ways." Ike gestured.

"Ike, it would take one hell of a miracle." Buck sighed. "If the spirits will it, it will be."

"It'll work out, Buck," Kid said. "Look at me and Lou."

Buck just nodded, not saying anything. Not in a million years would anyone have thought that an outlaw's daughter and a Virginia farmer would fall in love. Was it any stranger than a white girl with a Lakota heart falling for a half-breed? He supposed not. All he could do now was wait and see and hopefully the spirits smiled upon him.

He fingered his medicine pouch, which he always wore tucked beneath his shirt and closed his eyes, daydreaming about Eagle Feather trying on those dresses of Rachel's . . . and how sweet she would look taking them off again to swim in the pond . . . without anything on at all. A slow smile quirked up his mouth as he opened his eyes and saw Ike and Kid peering at him.

"Sweet dreams, lover boy?" Ike teased.

"Must be," Kid laughed.

"Aw, shut up, the pair of you!" Buck groused, glad that his darker skin hid his sudden blush. He took off his hat and swatted both of them in the face with it, the way Flicker would swat a pesky fly. A man couldn't even dream in private around here!

He stalked away towards the corral, and behind him he heard Kid snickering.

**A/N: I know it's been awhile since my last update, but I was working on some of my other fics. In this chapter I discuss a lot of Lakota customs, which I have carefully researched before I wrote this chapter, as I try to be as historically accurate as possible. Hope y'all have a Happy Easter or Passover! Enjoy!**


	4. Wildfire

**4**

**Wildfire**

Rachel handed her a small carpetbag with the dresses and underthings she had given her, and it was then that Jenny recalled the letter she needed delivered. "Rachel, could you please see that this letter gets delivered? It's for my aunt back East, I wrote her to tell her I've decided to remain in Sweetwater here with my father."

"Of course, Jenny. I'll make sure it goes out this afternoon," Rachel said. "It's Kid's turn to ride, he'll see it makes it to the next station."

"I' m much obliged," Jenny said, and dug in her pocket for a five dollar gold piece. She handed the money to Rachel and smiled at her. "If you don't mind, I'll be coming out here for several days. There's a young Appaloosa filly in the corral that I'm trying to gentle. Pa promised me a horse, but I'd rather choose my own. If I gentle her, Jimmy says I can keep her, since nobody's laid claim to her yet."

Rachel's eyebrows rose. "Jenny, isn't that a bit dangerous? A wild horse like that? I've seen the boys take plenty of spills breaking in those cayuses."

Jenny smiled. "What I do is a bit different than what they do, Rachel. I'm breaking my horse the Lakota way, with patience and kindness. It takes longer, but it won't break her spirit, and when I'm done, I'll have a horse fit for anyone to ride, even a child."

"I'd love to see that!" exclaimed Rachel.

"Come down to the corral and watch me tomorrow," Jenny invited. She tucked the carpetbag under her arm and descended the staircase. "Thank you for everything, Rachel. But I'd best be going, Pa will be expecting me back soon."

Rachel bustled into the kitchen and came out with a paper wrapped bundle. "Here, you take this along to your pa for lunch, Jenny. It's some chicken, biscuits, and a slice of pie."

"Thank you again, Pa will appreciate this, since I haven't got the hang of cooking over a stove yet," Jenny said happily.

"Well, if you want some lessons, you just come on over," offered Rachel. "I like to cook, my mama and grandmamma taught me. They could make paper taste good."

Jenny laughed. "Let's hope pa and I never get that desperate," she paused on the porch. "I'd best go get Molasses and head on back to town."

"Why don't you ask Buck to escort you?" Rachel suggested teasingly. "It's not always safe for a girl to travel alone in these parts."

Jenny found herself blushing. "Oh, that's all right. It's only a few miles and I wouldn't want him to be inconvenienced."

Rachel snorted. "Jenny, that boy's just begging for you to . . . inconvenience him. Buck! Would you mind giving Jenny here an escort back to Sweetwater?" she called.

Buck reappeared around the corner of the house so fast you would have thought he was set on fire. "Sure, not a problem." He gave Jenny a sweet smile. "I'll tack up Molasses for you."

Jenny followed him out to the barn, where Kid was grooming Katy. "What a beautiful mare!" she said, going to stroke the paint's nose. Katy whuffed and nuzzled her.

Kid beamed. "She's my pride and joy. I bred her myself. She's part Thoroughbred and part Quarter horse and she's my best friend."

"She's a fine horse. The Lakota would call her a spirit horse, because of her markings. They consider a paint horse to be special and one like her would be valued highly." Jenny told him, scratching Katy behind the eyes. The mare lowered her head and leaned it against Jenny's chest. "Yes, you know you're special, don't you, girl?" she crooned.

"She's Kid's baby," Buck said, leading out Molasses.

"Uh huh, and like your Flicker isn't? Last time she got hurt, you slept in the stall with her all night!" Kid reminded him.

"So? It was the best way to make sure she didn't hurt herself," Buck defended.

Jenny smiled at the friendly banter, stroking a hand down Katy's neck. Then she recalled she was still wearing her Indian buckskins. She had changed in a bit of scrub on the trail coming out here, but she wouldn't be able to do that again with Buck along. "Just a minute," she said, fastening her bag to Molasses' saddle after shoving the parcel of food inside it and pulling out some items. "I forgot something."

She returned to the house and changed into the blue dress Rachel had given her, and her soft cloth shoes with leather soles, another gift from the station mistress. They weren't quite as comfortable as her moccasins, but they would do.

The two riders looked startled when she came out wearing white clothing. "I forgot, I shouldn't wear my Indian clothes into town." She swung up into the saddle, trying to sweep the skirts out of her way. "You ready?"

"Just give me a minute to get Flicker," said Buck, and he hurried into the barn. Two minutes later he reemerged with the mare and swung aboard. He tapped Flicker lightly with his heels and the mare sprinted out of the yard.

Recognizing a challenge when she saw one, Jenny booted Molasses after them. She knew the old horse couldn't keep up, but felt he needed some exercise, and managed to get him to canter for a bit.

Flicker and Buck were several yards ahead of them, though after a few minutes, Buck glanced back and slowed his mare, so she could catch up. "Hey, no fair making a race out of this with poor Molasses. You know he can't keep pace with a younger horse."

"Sorry, I forgot what you were riding," Buck apologized, not looking at all sorry.

"Just wait till I have my mare tamed enough to ride. _Then_ I'll have you eating my dust." Jenny said.

"We'll see," Buck said.

They trotted along companionably for another mile, their horses hooves making a rhythmically lulling sound in the afternoon heat. At this time of day, most of the Lakota would be napping inside their teepees, or down by the river cooling off in the sticky heat. She wished a breeze would come up. She fanned herself with her hand and wished she were still wearing her tunic, even in this heat it allowed more air to flow around her than did the tighter woven and closer fitting cotton dress she now wore.

She urged Molasses to a shambling trot, wanting to get back to Sweetwater as soon as possible. "I wish there was a river or a stream around here so I could cool down."

"Me too. It's hotter than hellfire out here," Buck said. "But we only have a half mile to go and then you can relax inside your father's store."

Jenny nodded, the heat was making her sleepy. "I'll come back tomorrow to work with the filly again."

"That's good. What'll you tell your pa?"

"That Rachel's giving me cooking lessons," she replied. "I'm not lying, she did say she would. I'm just not telling him that I'm gentling the filly along with it."

Buck chuckled. "I'm not arguing with you, Jenny." The more time she spent over at the station, the better he liked it.

They had reached the town outskirts and Buck rode with her to the livery to return Molasses. After she had rubbed down the horse, she picked up her bag and waved goodbye to Buck. "I'll see you tomorrow, around eleven or so."

He grinned and tipped his hat to her, then he wheeled Flicker and galloped away.

Jenny stood watching after him wistfully.

"Your pa wouldn't like you talkin' to no half-breed, girl," drawled a voice from behind her.

Jenny turned, and found herself face to face with Arnie Laramie, a customer in her father's store. He was a tall man with wheat colored hair cut short and the coldest brown eyes she had ever seen upon anything except a rattlesnake. She turned. "Mr. Cross was kind enough to escort me home after I gave the station mistress a letter to mail," she informed the older man stiffly, he was in his late twenties. "There's no cause for alarm."

Laramie snorted. "Around here, missy, there's every cause for alarm when a breed comes sniffing round white women."

"Mr. Cross has behaved like a perfect gentleman, sir!"

"Yeah? He ain't no gentleman, he's a half-breed and if I were you, I'd watch my step. You mighta been somebody when you was with them savages, but here if you want to maintain a good reputation, you stay away from the likes o' him." Laramie perused her leisurely.

Jenny shuddered, she didn't like the way he was looking at her, as if she were a juicy steak and he was a starving cowhand. "Buck is a friend."

"I done tol' your pa he better find a white man quick to court ya. Make an honest woman outta ya."

"Like you?" she scoffed.

He stiffened. "And why not? I got a good job workin' as a wrangler."

"That's as may be, but I don't need the likes of you sniffing around me either, Mr. Laramie!" she snapped, incensed by his audacity.

"Why? You a white squaw, girl? Fancy those Injun bucks?"

Jenny went hot and her temper exploded. "You are a rude insufferable lout and I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my business! No gentleman would ever address a lady so! Now get out of my way!"

She made as if to push by him, but he grabbed her arm. "Let go!"

"Someday, you little spitfire, I'll make you regret talkin' to me like that."

She wrenched her arm free. "Put a hand on me again, Laramie, and I'll have you arrested. Or your head blown off, take your pick." Then she stalked past him, her good mood ruined.

When she arrived at the store, she found her father engaged in bartering with a customer. "Pa, I brought lunch for you," she called as she went up the stairs to the small apartment there. She set out the lunch on the table, unwrapping the cloth to make sure nothing had gotten broken. The food was fine and she left it spread out for her father to eat.

Then she went and drew a bucket of water from out back and carried it into her bedroom. She quickly drew the curtains, stripped off her dress, and washed the dirt and sweat off. It cooled her somewhat and she chose a light shift and a blouse and skirt combination that was more comfortable in the heat.

She was still shaking from the insults Laramie had spoken. It was too bad she hadn't been carrying her knife with her, then she could have paid him back. She debated upon whether or not to tell her father, then figured it was best to keep silent. She knew Bill wouldn't approve of Buck escorting her anywhere.

When she had finished pinning up her hair, she entered the kitchen and found her father eating the fried chicken and biscuits she had brought. "Hello, Pa."

He looked up from his meal, a smile lighting his face. "Now, don't you look pretty, Jennifer. You remind me of your mama." He paused to take a drink from a mug of water. "I'll have to be sure and thank Rachel for helping you out and for this fine meal she cooked."

Jenny turned about so he could see the way the blue and green skirt fell. "Rachel's a real nice lady, Pa. She offered to teach me how to cook those biscuits and chicken, as well as some other dishes. Have you had the pie yet?"

"Nope, but I'm fixin' to, with some coffee." Bill answered.

"I can make it for you," Jenny said, eager to show her father that she learned quickly.

As she began fixing the coffee, Bill said, "I have to run over to Mr. Green's, make a delivery of some flour and sugar, his boy's sick and can't pick it up. Will you mind the store till I get back? Do you remember how to count money and make change?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, I used to help trade at the trading post all the time."

"Good. The prices are marked on everything, don't let anybody try to bring you down. It's gold or credit, no greenbacks."

"I know."

"I should be back soon." He said, accepting the cup of coffee she handed him. "In about half-an-hour." He began to eat the wedge of pie. "You tell Rachel next time you see her that if she can teach you how to make pie like this, she can have an extended line of credit."

"All right, I will. I was going to go over there tomorrow around eleven, and stay till one or two o'clock, if you don't need me here."

"Stay till three if you'd like. Come back when the heat's not so bad. I don't want you getting sunstroke. Just make sure you bring me some of Rachel's cooking. I haven't had food this good since your ma's."

"I'll try my best to learn, Pa," Jenny promised. She wanted to sing, for now she had permission to go to the station and tame the filly as well as learn how to cook like a white woman. She wondered if Rachel would be interested in some Lakota recipes, though a lot of them were made with buffalo meat and wild game, and she didn't know if they could be made without them. Maybe they could substitute beef for buffalo and . . well, she would worry about it later.

"You do that, girl." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I'd best be going. I'm going to get Charlie to hitch up the wagon and fill it, then I'll be back."

They went downstairs to the store and Bill changed the sign to Open again. He left Jenny behind the counter and went to the storeroom and then to call his stockroom boy, Charlie, to bring the wagon around and load it.

Once Bill was gone, Jenny wandered about the store, getting to know where things were, some prices, and how the store was arranged. The store was very neat and had items grouped together in a precise logical order. However, Jenny saw that some of the women's items, like cloth and ready-made aprons, oven mitts, towels, soap, fabric, sewing items, ribbons, and other things, could be displayed better and more attractively. She made a mental note to suggest putting up a table with things that were overstocked and pricing them lower, and also a table showcasing items and making them more pleasing to the eye.

At the Sun Dance Festival, which was held every spring in the Paha Sapa, or Black Hills, many of the Sioux tribes and their friendly allies the Cheyenne would gather to pray and sacrifice themselves to the Creator, but it was also a time of renewing old friendships and trading items they had made. Jenny's mother had, during the long winter months, made things to trade, such as moccasins, necklaces, blankets, and shirts. Jenny had always been happy to create displays of her mother's crafts, showing each to their best advantage using colorful stripes of cloth and pieces of wood. All of the Lakota admired her displays and often asked her to create them for their items. Eagle Feather had been happy to do so. She could do the same here for her father. She had learned that the better something was displayed, the more attractive it was to customers.

Her mind was filled with ideas, and she moved back behind the counter as the door jangled and two women came into the shop. They were a mother and daughter, Jenny had met them briefly at the funeral, called Mimi and Daisy Matthews.

"Oh, hello, dear," greeted Mimi, smiling at Jenny. "Is your father in? We were hoping that the new shipment of calico had arrived, and he thought it might have today."

"He's stepped out to make a delivery," Jenny told her. "But he'll be back soon. I can check in the back and see if there's anything new, or I can look on the shelf and see if anything new's come in."

To her surprise, Mimi waved off her offer. "Oh, no, dear, don't trouble yourself. We can look ourselves."

"Oh, but . . ." Jenny trailed off as the two women walked away towards the bolts of fabric.

Daisy gave her mother a puzzled look. "Mama, why didn't you let her help? I'm sure she knows where everything is."

Mimi lowered her voice, but Jenny had exceptional hearing from being raised on the plains among the Lakota, and she heard every word the woman said. "Dasiy, dear, that girl was raised by savages. She's only been back in civilization a little over a week. You can't expect her to give _us_ advice on fabric! She probably never wore a dress until recently!" The woman snickered behind her hand. "And heaven only knows _what_ heathen ways she picked up from them! No, dear, we're better off looking for ourselves or coming back when Mr. Tompkins is available."

"Oh, all right, Mama. I . . . didn't know. Fancy, living with savages. I wonder if she wore feathers and painted herself?"

Jenny felt herself flush in embarrassment. _Is that what they think of me? An ignorant savage?_ She was tempted to go up to that high-and-mighty piece and order her out of the store for being such a nasty cow. But she held her tongue, not wanting to cause her father to lose business. And to think, they had seemed so nice at the funeral! Jenny wondered if most of the women and men there had been sincere or had they been hiding their true feelings behind masks of smiling politeness. Running Bear had been right, most _wasicu_ did speak falsely, with the forked tongue of a rattlesnake.

Stiffening her spine, Jenny walked back behind the counter. So, these women thought she should be ashamed of having lived with Lakota. Well, she wasn't and she would never be! Her Lakota family and tribe had treated her with more respect and compassion than any white man she'd met except for the Express riders and her father. Lifting her head, she pretended to be gazing outside, ignoring the women in the shop. She would rather have her father deal with them, otherwise she might be tempted to tell them what she really thought of them, the gossipy crows!

But then another customer came in, this one was a man, looking for some canned goods to take along on a cattle drive. He was polite and friendly and bought everything on the shelf she recommended.

Jenny glanced about, and saw the Matthews were still loitering near the fabrics and made a point of chatting with the cowboy before she wrapped up his purchases and he paid her in gold coins. She easily tallied up his change and gave it to him, and he wished her a good afternoon.

By that time, Bill had returned, and before he could ask Jenny how everything had gone, Mimi came rushing over to him to ask about the calico. Jenny rolled her eyes at the fluttering prairie hen and decided to dust the window display. She had never realized how utterly stupid people could be until now.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

The next morning, Jenny cooked some Indian corn pudding for breakfast, after locating some cornmeal in a sack in the shop. To the cornmeal she added an egg, some milk from the cellar, and some dried berries she had found in the pantry, as well as a dash of salt and some cinnamon and sugar. She then baked it in the oven, Rachel had suggested what setting she should use. The recipe was her mother's, who had learned it from a Cheyenne named Walking Horse. Usually, the Lakota didn't have sugar, so they used honey instead, but Jenny remembered what sugar looked like and was happy to find some to flavor it. She also fried some bacon and brewed the coffee.

Bill was pleasantly surprised at breakfast and complimented Jenny on the pudding. "Where did you learn to make this?"

"From Ma," Jenny replied, knowing better than to tell him where Sally had learned it from. "Do you like it?"

"It's delicious. What are these things in it?" He pointed to the dried berries.

"I think they're dried blueberries and strawberries."

"They taste great. I'll save the rest for lunch or even dessert." Bill said.

Jenny nodded happily. She was proud that she had managed to cook breakfast without help. A good cook was the mark of a good wife among the Lakota. She wrapped a square in a cloth to take with her to the station for Buck. It would be a surprise.

As before, she rode out to the station on a rented horse from the livery, she had cut down one of Rachel's dresses last night, until it had short sleeves, a slightly lower collar and the hem was the right length. It had taken her hours to alter the dress to her liking. She had even made a slit up the side so she could ride comfortably astride.

She tucked the Indian pudding into the carpetbag and rode out to the station. It was somewhat earlier in the morning than eleven and she found Rachel gathering eggs from the chicken coop and Ike feeding the stock.

"Well, don't you look fine in that dress, Jenny!" Rachel said, looking very pleased.

Ike signed, "Like a fancy Boston lady," and grinned.

"With her nose in the air?" Jenny snorted, imitating a fine Eastern belle. Then she wriggled her nose at Ike and laughed.

She saw her filly then, trotting about the pen, and she slid from her mount and tied him to the rail.

Jenny walked over to the pen and held out her hand, palm flat.

Some of the others in the paddock looked at her, but most were more interested in their oats.

The filly swept by her, all grace and light, her fiery tail seeming to glow, like sparks upon the wind. Watching her gave Jenny a thrill like nothing else. Except perhaps watching Buck when he wasn't aware of it.

Suddenly, the Appaloosa paused, her ears pricked forward curiously, and turned and trotted closer. She drew up just before the girl's palm, and snorted, tossing her head.

Jenny stood still, averted her eyes and remained that way.

She heard the thump of the filly's hooves on the dirt and then felt her breath on her hand. The filly remembered!

Jenny glanced up and saw the filly's muzzle very close to her. She smiled. Then she unlatched the door to the corral and went inside.

The filly still had a halter on, and she froze when Jenny came towards her. But then Jenny turned and presented her back to the Appaloosa, telling her by posture that this two-legs was no threat. Jenny waited until the filly came and sniffed her shoulder, then, like the previous day, she began to walk around the corral, and the filly, needing the comfort of a herd of her own, as she was by herself in the corral, followed closely behind.

Rachel paused with the basket of eggs in her hand, her eyes wide. "If that don't beat all! How did you _do_ that? It's like you speak her language!"

Jenny looked up at her friend and came to a halt in the middle of the corral. "I . . . sort of do. My Indian father taught me that all creatures have their own language, and all we need to do is learn it. A horse speaks with her ears, tail, head, and body. Like Ike with his hands and expressions. He taught me to speak to her, and more important to listen to her." She jerked her thumb back at the filly. "She follows me because she can tell by _my_ posture that I'm not a threat. She's curious about me, and so she follows."

Jenny turned and held up a bit of bread on her palm. The filly sniffed, pulled away, then sniffed again. Finally she took the bread and crunched it down. "Very good!" Jenny praised in Lakota. She gently ran her hand down the filly's neck, a very light caress.

The filly jerked her head away. Jenny made a whickering sound, rather like the one a mare made to comfort a nervous foal. Then she brought her hand up again and stroked the silky coat.

This time the filly did not pull away. She snorted and lowered her head, leaning into the caress.

Jenny scratched along her mane, where the hair was sometimes itchy. Her fingers filled with horsehair, she scratched as would a friendly herdmate. The filly sighed happily.

That was how Buck, Jimmy, and Cody found her two minutes later, as they came out to work with the new mounts.

Jimmy stopped dead. "Well, Godalmighty! Buck, you ever see a wild one like that let a person come up and pet them like that?"

Buck grinned. His heart soared when he saw Jenny and the filly, two wild untamed souls communing with each other. "My grandfather knew how to speak horse," he said. "He could call a wild horse out of a herd with a whistle."

"It's like magic!" Cody said, awe in his tone.

Buck shook his head. "No. It's not magic. It's just . . . understanding how an animal thinks, what she likes and doesn't like. It's about making the horse your friend, not mastering it."

He walked quietly over to the corral and leaned against it, watching. Jenny did not notice, all her focus was on the Appaloosa. The other boys soon joined him, and they watched as Jenny ran her hands all over the filly, stroking, caressing, and gently lifting her feet.

Only when she turned towards the fence, did she see she had an audience. "Oh! I was just getting her used to my touch. Later I'll use a blanket to get her used to something lying on her back."

"That's amazing!" Cody said. "I've never seen anything like that in my life."

Jenny blushed. "This is the way my Indian father taught me to gentle a horse."

"Have you named her yet?" asked Jimmy.

Jenny shook her head. "Not yet. She will tell me her name, when she is ready."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Cody, however, asked, "How will you know it's the right name?"

"I just . . . will. I can't explain it." Jenny said. She continued to work with the filly for another fifteen minutes before stopping. "She needs to rest now, give the lessons time to sink in. It's not good to work a horse for too long too fast." She latched the corral behind her and said, "Rachel, are you ready to teach me how to make biscuits and gravy?"

"Uh oh," Cody muttered. "I hope your biscuits are better than Jimmy's. I almost broke a tooth last time I bit into one."

Jimmy glared at the other rider. "Like you can talk, Cody. Last time you baked, even the pigs wouldn't eat _your_ biscuits."

"But they made good kindling for a fire," Ike signed, smirking.

"Aww, shut up!" Cody said, pretending to be annoyed. "So I can't cook. None of you can either, including you, Buck."

"Not true. I can cook stew," Buck argued.

Just then Jenny recalled the Indian pudding she had in her bag for Buck. "Give me a minute, Rachel. Let me put away my horse." She untied the brown gelding she had borrowed and led him inside the barn. "Buck, would you mind taking a look at his off fore? He seems to be favoring it."

Buck followed her, waiting until she had placed the horse in the stall and removed her saddle before examining the leg. He felt it over carefully. "Seems fine to me." When he stood up she was holding something in her hands.

"Here. I figured you might like some of this."

He took the cloth wrapped parcel and opened it. "Mmm . . ." he said as the aroma hit his nose. He lifted up the pudding and bit into it. "This . . . this is Indian pudding! I haven't had this in . . . I can't remember how long." He took another bite. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Eagle Feather."

"You are very welcome, Running Buck," she said in Lakota.

He ate the rest, licking his fingers when he was through. Then he made to hand the cloth back and their fingers touched.

She felt a spark like lightning crackle through her and she almost dropped the cloth in surprise. Then she gripped it tight and also his hands as well. It was a moment before she realized what she was doing. "Oh! I'm sorry . . ."

"Don't be," Buck said very softly. He brought up his hand and gently ran his finger down her cheek. "I'm not."

Jenny gasped as fire licked at her skin. But like the filly, she remained, unable to draw away. Her eyes met his, and in them she saw compassion and understanding and the first flicker of desire. She drowned in their depths and suddenly she longed to draw him closer, to feel his mouth on hers, his arms about her.

An instant later the spell was broken as Cody stuck his head in and yelled, "Hey, Jenny, Rachel's waiting on you. I want to taste those biscuits of yours before you go home this afternoon. Then we'll see who can cook."

"Cody, keep your pants on! She wanted me to look at her horse." Buck said, now irritable.

"I guess I'd better get going," Jenny said, tucking the cloth in her pocket. The moment was ruined now. But maybe it had been for the best. She knew this attraction she felt could go nowhere. So best to not even encourage it. She walked back up to the house, longing shivering through her despite all of her self-control.

Buck watched her go, and he silently cursed Cody for his awful timing under his breath.

**Page~*~*~*~*~Break**

Jenny's first attempt at making biscuits didn't turn out badly. They weren't too hard, but rather soft, though not the same as Rachel's.

"You did good, Jenny," Jimmy said as he slowly chewed and swallowed. "They're not like bullets and they're not like dough either. I can eat them and that's what counts."

"And the gravy's good," Cody said, mopping up his plate with a biscuit half.

"You can cook better than I can," Lou said, smiling shyly.

Ike signed that he liked it.

"You can cook for me anytime, Jenny," Buck said, and their eyes met.

"When you get me a few pheasants, Buck, I'll invite you for dinner." Jenny said.

"Too bad I have to make a run tomorrow, otherwise I'd take you up on that offer," he said regretfully.

"That's all right, I need to get other things before I'm ready for them." Jenny told him. She would need a list of ingredients and have to plan on a dessert and some side dishes, besides the stuffing. Maybe some spinach? Or wild watercress?

"Just let me know and I'll go hunt some up for you," Buck said.

"First I'll need to bake some more biscuits," Jenny said. "And I'll need to learn how to make pie."

"That's not quite as hard as biscuits. I've got a secret piecrust recipe that never fails," Rachel said.

The biscuits and gravy made a wonderful accompaniment to Rachel's steak and onions.

Jenny went home that afternoon with some of that in her satchel, as Rachel refused to let her go empty-handed, and included some of Jenny's biscuits also.

Buck was gone the next morning on a run, so Jimmy came and escorted her to and from the station. Laramie was lounging around in the livery yard when Jimmy arrived, but he didn't start anything with the rider. Hickok had a reputation as a gunfighter and no one wanted to tangle with him.

The Appaloosa grew more at ease, and remained with her, circling her and letting her stroke the silky mane and coat for longer this time. That afternoon Rachel showed her how to make sugar cookies and cherry pie, as well as fried pork chops and potatoes with parsley.

That afternoon she told Bill that she had some ideas for displays in the shop, particularly with the women's items. Her father told her to feel free to arrange the items as she saw fit.

So she commandeered two tables and set to work. She placed floral bath scents and bars of soap, powder, and toothpaste, brushes, comb, and mirrors on one table with a sigh that read Make Yourself Shine! She did another table draped with swags of fabric, and all kind of ribbons, lace, buttons, jewelry, and sewing equipment, with the sign Cut Yourself A Sensation! There was even a small wooden model with the latest fashion on it from Godey's Ladies Book.

The displays met with immediate approval from the ladies of Sweetwater. They were so impressed and intrigued that they started buying material for dresses and soaps for themselves, or telling their husbands to buy things for them for their birthdays or anniversaries. When Bill informed them that it was Jenny who had designed the displays, many of the women looked on her with tolerance and some with envy. None of them sneered at her, or at least not within her hearing.

Flushed with her success, Jenny decided that she would ask Buck to dinner next week.

But that wasn't the only surprise she had that week. The next morning she rode out to the station as usual to work with her Appaloosa. As soon as she arrived, the filly stuck her head over the gate and whinnied at her.

Jenny was so happy she nearly cried, for it meant the filly actually was missing her. After tethering her horse, she walked slowly towards the corral, holding a bit of apple on her palm. "Missed me, did you, girl?"

The filly butted her chest, breathing in Jenny's scent. Jenny stroked her and fed her the apple. Horse and girl stared into each other's eyes for endless minutes, until the filly looked away and then back, nuzzling Jenny's ear and blowing into it.

Jenny closed her eyes. The filly's coat was warm against her cheek, bringing to mind late nights spent around the fire listening to the old ones telling stories in the Lakota camp. The filly's breath stung her cheek and she could almost feel the wind sighing through the prairie grass, hear the thunder of hooves as the horses raced the wind across the endless grass, manes and tails flying like multi-colored flames, like wildfire consuming everything in their path.

Abruptly, Jenny came out of the vision. It had been so real she had felt as if she had been there, running with the herd. She gazed into the eyes of her filly and whispered, "Thank you for sharing that with me, wind sister." She gently traced a circle and a line down the filly's nose. "Now I know your name. I call you, Wildfire."

The newly named filly bugled her acceptance and half reared, dancing in place. Then she whirled and ran about the corral, her mane and tail streaming like the wildfire for which she had been named.

Jenny watched her run, tears sparkling in her eyes. She felt a presence behind her and turned to see Buck standing there, silently watching them. "Buck . . . she told me her name."

"I had a feeling she would. It's a good morning." He came up and put his arm about her. "So . . . what is it?"

"Her name is Wildfire."

"Wildfire," he repeated. "It's a strong name. It suits her. Like Eagle Feather suits you." His lips were very close to her and suddenly he was kissing her.

She felt electrified, as if every nerve ending was on fire. She couldn't get enough of him, and she put her arms about him and kissed him back, uncaring that it was broad daylight and anyone could see them. It was a kiss of celebration, a kiss of passion, forbidden, but all the sweeter for it.

It lasted but a moment, but it was enough to show them both that the feelings they bore for one another was no mere fancy, but something greater, something deeper, something that could consume them if they gave into it. It left them both exhilarated and frightened, yet longing for more. And neither of them would ever be the same.

**Sorry for the long wait between updates, but my mom had surgery and I've been taking care of her, it's a long recovery process, so I haven't had time to write much. Please review so I know you're still reading. Thank you for your patience and hopefully my next update will be quicker!**


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